Brett on an empty tube (what Londoners call the subway) carriage, on our way to see the Tower Bridge

Yesterday afternoon, we finally did a bit more tourism. It was a muggy, overcast day, with occasional drizzle, but there were still crowds of fellow tourists around the Tower of London and Tower Bridge. We didn't really do much more than walk slowly across the bridge, pausing every now and then for Brett to take photos.

Me on the bridge

The new building (by Norman Foster) going up to house local government meetings. HMS Belfast is on the right.

We'd planned on getting back home in time to get changed and drop our cameras before heading out again to meet with Kirstie, but, in the end, we didn't leave ourselves enough time, so we just went straight over to Leicester Square, where we'd arranged to meet in the Starbucks (my suggestion of course :)

Kirstie wasn't there, but two of her friends were. I'd met one of them, Mark, last year, and he recognized me long before I remembered who he was. (At first, I thought someone had recognized me from the website, when he called out my name). Eventually Kirstie arrived with her friend Mamoud, and we all went in search of a t-dance.

I'd hoped to go to this club called Limelight, which has had a great Sunday t-dance in Cambridge Circus for years. (I last went there about five years ago, and met this gorgeous guy from Florida with whom I spent five wonderful nights.) But the t-dance was no more. After farting around the West End, for a while, we eventually found where its successor was, in a place called Sound, in Leicester Square. The place was dead when we got there, since it apparently didn't get going until eight or so, so we spent an hour and a half in a bar/restaurant a few blocks away, where the two waiters had beautiful faces, and skinny but well- proportioned bodies (and the inevitable tight, tight t-shirts).

Once we finally got into the club, we immediately noticed that the dance-floor was packed with (what we call in the United States) twinkies - young things in and out of spandex jumping around with enormous amounts of energy to pop music. It didn't seem too promising, but we ordered drinks and found out that you got two for the price of three. So pretty soon we were all standing around with a bottle in each hand, getting slightly drunk. And pretty soon after that we were all jumping around on the dance floor like the twinkies.

We danced for hours, and had a blast. It was fun to be silly with my sister Kirstie, and her boyfriend Paul. When Brett and I took our shirts off, they pretended to be shocked, but they took it in their stride. What made it even more fun for me was that I was just there to enjoy myself. I didn't feel any of the pressure to meet somebody that I used to feel when I went out clubbing regularly several years ago.

As the evening wore on, my sister and her friends left, one by one, and Brett and I stayed, hanging around with a thin, cute young Irish boy named Brandon. I don't think that either Brett or I were interested in doing anything with the boy, but flirting is always fun. By midnight, though, I'd had enough - my feet were killing me, and every new pop song was beginning to sound just like the last. So I left Brett with his hanger-on, and walked the couple of miles home, in the still muggy night. By the time I got home, my throat was starting to hurt, and I began to think I was coming down with another cold!

I slept really badly again, and woke up feeling definitely under the weather. It hasn't been a great day - I've had little energy, and my throat is bothering me. But we did put in some tourism - Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey mainly. At least we finally had a sunny, warm day!

Brett outside the gates of Buckingham Palace

Me on the edges of the fountain across from the palace.

Bucks Palace in all its glory

Brett recovers from tourizing, in St James Park